Page 104 of A Million To Fall

I don’t say much. Not that I couldn’t chime in—I’ve heard my dad talk about business structuring since I was born—but more because there isn’t really space here for me. I’m just kind of an accessory. A bridge between families.

So instead of listening to my dad’s spiel about tax exposure and liability shielding—yawn—I just keep trying to figure out which version of me is sitting at that table. The good girlfriend? The perfect future daughter-in-law? The girl who can’t stop thinking about someone she shouldn’t, questioning things she never questioned before?

I haven’t seen Boston since he dropped me off at home Sunday afternoon, feeling like too much of an ass to even show my face at Riverfront.

I snapped at him, held his disappearance against him, made him feel like crap only because I was embarrassed.

I still am. About… everything.

But it’s not just embarrassment.

I thought I could keep it all compartmentalized. Keep the questions in one box and the answers in another. Keep the life I’d always planned for separate from the one I suddenly can’t stop imagining.

But that’s getting harder by the day. Especially after this last weekend, and everything Cassie said. I feel it all… shifting. Changing. Reprioritizing.

And it’s all so unsettling.

Now, I’m standing politely in the foyer while we say our goodbyes to Jake’s parents. Archer’s arm is wrapped around my waist, his thumb stroking lazily at my hip.

“Dan, if you could prepare the initial paperwork and send it over, I can review everything while I’m gone,” Mr. Davis says, clapping my dad’s shoulder.

He nods. “I’ll get it drafted and over to you by next week.”

“Great. Let’s plan to have dinner when I’m back.” Mr. Davis looks from my dad to Mr. Longfellow. “I’ll have Lexi here make her delicious venison ragu.” He shakes Orson Longfellow’s hand.

“Alright, that sounds like something to look forward to,” Mr. Longfellow booms, his voice a slightly more authoritative version of Archer’s.

“Hopefully next time your wife can join,” Mrs. Davis says with a girlish giggle.

Archer’s mom has been spending the week with Archer’s brother, Wilder, the oldest of the four Longfellow boys. Archer, Mr. Longfellow, and I are set to join them in New York on Friday.

“I’m sure of it, Lex,” Mr. Longfellow chuckles. “Although, I have no doubt you two will be connecting before then.”

I glance toward the front of the house as the front door creaks open. Mrs. Davis's response gets swallowed by the sound of my heartbeat thrumming in my ears.

Boston steps inside, fresh from work, his dark hair mussed.

Like he can sense me, his head turns. His eyes find mine instantly.

Something inside me uncoils. And Archer’s arm feels heavier than it did a second ago.

“Boss,” Jake calls, always so happy to see his best friend. The conversation around us comes to a stop.

“Hey,” Boston says, a soft smile on his lips. “How was hunting?”

“Fuck, it was great. Shot myself a beautiful red fox,” Jake says. “Let me just change really quick and then we can head out to meet Pace and Jon,” he adds and disappears down the hall into his room.

I wonder if he and Boston actually have plans tonight, or if Jake just made something up on the fly to give Boston a reason for being here.

Boston nods appreciatively, then looks around at each of us. Our eyes connect, linger.

It hits me. I’ve missed him. It’s only been three days. But I’ve missed him.

Next to me, Archer shifts.

My mom interrupts the moment, her face bright. “Oh my goodness, Boston!”

She steps forward and wraps him into a tight hug.